


Suction: A Romance

by inkystars



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkystars/pseuds/inkystars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being let out of the lighthouse he'd be imprisoned in for nearly ninety years, Blaine Anderson leaves Provincetown swearing never to return. But when his savior in the form of one seventeen-year-old Kurt Hummel moves to the town nine years later, Blaine just might find himself tempted back. Basically, it's Exsanguination: A Love Story, but from Blaine's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nine years ago...

***

The sun began to sink below the clouds and Blaine once again pushed himself up the steps to lean against the wall, life utterly drained from his body.

Well...it had been like that for quite some time.

His nose twitched, searching for that familiar comforting scent that usually led to a rush of memories which would keep him company throughout the night, but nothing came, just the utter grotesque smell of hawthorne pervading his every sense, making him ache and choke. 

He shut his eyes, unwilling to look at the wooden walls around him, unable to tear a chunk from the wall and just end everything.

But if he did...

Gripping his hair tightly, he burrowed into himself, screaming internally.

Movement.

Blaine’s eyes shot open and his ears strained.

There was movement nearby. 

He stood in a blink, looking out the window.

Something small, perhaps an animal--no, a child. A child was running towards the lighthouse.

Blaine stepped off the ledge, not even bothering with the staircase, and landed on the ground next to the door, staring at it as the steps grew closer and his mouth filled with venom.

His entire body was only focusing on one thing: blood.

Blood was coming.

The rusty latch scraped and the door opened.

Blaine jumped forward, tackling the small child into the snow, teeth dripping in anticipation as he inhaled deeply, ready to feed.

Gardenias.

Blaine froze, his fangs snapping back into his mouth as he smelled again. He blinked down at the boy--it was a boy, he realized--as two dazed blue eyes looked up at him.

_“Here,” Charlotte smiled, tucking the small bloom into his breast pocket. “See? Now you look presentable.”_

_“If you insist, darling,” Blaine said wryly as he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek._

Blaine ran, jumping off the boy and tearing into the woods, leaving Charlotte’s scent and eyes behind him. 

***

An hour later, he returned. A bear had managed to satisfy his needs--thank god, otherwise he would have gone into town and attacked the first person in sight--and... _she_ was secure down in her hell hole, though he’d had to replace a rock.

The little boy was still lying in the snow.

Blaine picked him up gently and cradled him in his arms. His hair was the same color that Charlotte’s had been. And the little nose that tipped upwards. So he started heading through the woods along the familiar--and yet now so unfamiliar--path to Charlotte’s house.

He knew that she had to be gone by this point. He’d lost count somewhere around sixty-eight years, but he knew it was close to the end of the century. If Charlotte were still alive, she’d be over a hundred. 

Granted, he was well over a hundred, but it was a very loose interpretation of the word “alive”. 

And this couldn’t be her son. Grandson? Blaine hopped over the brick back wall, blinking at the lights of the house--it’d never been that bright when he’d visited. Then again, the last time he’d visited had been 1914.

He looked at the...well, it was in the general shape of a car, that was parked in the front lot, and at a glance through the window, there was a family eating.

“I’m worried about Kurt,” one woman who looked so like Charlotte that Blaine had to hold his tongue to keep from calling out to her said, wringing hands. “Shouldn’t he have been back by now?”

“It’s okay, Lizzie,” a man smiled at her fondly, patting her hand. “He’s come back late every night this week. You know how much he loves the beach.”

“I guess so,” Lizzie sighed, tucking her hair anxiously behind her ear.

“Maybe you should keep a better eye on him, Burt,” a woman at the head of the table said, who also strongly resembled Charlotte, save for the twist in her mouth and frown by her brows.

“Mother, please,” Lizzie sighed. “Not now.”

Great-grandson then, by the looks of it. Blaine glanced up and jumped, reaching a hand out to catch the ledge of the roof as he looked into a room. It was clearly shared by two people. He ignored the various appliances that made no sense to him as he swung himself along the ledge, gripping the boy--Kurt, his name was Kurt--tightly as he did so.

He finally fond a small little room with toys and little clothes and he grinned. He shook Kurt in his arm slightly. “Kurt? Kurt, wake up.”

Kurt stirred slightly, moaning.

“Kurt, you have to tell me to come in,” Blaine whispered at him. “Invite me in and I can get you to bed.”

Kurt shifted, groaning.

“Kurt, come on,” Blaine coaxed gently. “Come on, just tell me to come in.”

“Come in,” Kurt mumbled, burrowing into Blaine’s chest.

Blaine slid the window up with his foot and dropped in, looking around the room. A little suitcase sat in the corner and a snow hat was laying by the bed.

Finding a small smile tug at his lips, Blaine sat Kurt down on the bed and unzipped his snowsuit, pulling him out of it--long johns and all. He tucked Kurt into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. 

Hesitating, he leant over and kissed him on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, Kurt.”

Then he jumped hard on the floor and slid out the window as Lizzie and Burt raced up the stairs to their son’s room.

***

Two weeks ago...

***

Blaine scrolled through his laptop as he sat in the tiny little coffee shop right in the heart of Tokyo, picking the little mochi balls that he’d ordered to pieces as he glanced at the news.

It was only a front--his eyes would flicker up every now and then to glance around at the patrons. 

There was an extremely active hunter in the city and vampires were dropping like flies. Even the weird ones who didn’t even feed off of humans.

They were all being murdered for no apparent reason.

Dottie Kazatori--an old friend who went all the way back to his first decades with Wes--had called in the favor with him--upon hearing that he was alive and kicking, and he’d eagerly taken the job. 

Hunters were the worst. And there was nothing that could distract him from--

He blinked, freezing, scrolling back up the page.

Keeping tabs on Provincetown was just something that he was accustomed to doing, considering one of his main residences was there. And his primary way of checking the news was the little gossip magazine in town, because it would say which houses were of interest and who was looking to buy up what, and it had alerted him of the two times that he had to go back in order to put on a show that he was a capable guardian of himself and that the state wouldn’t cease his property (let them try). 

He leant forward, rereading the last paragraph. 

_“...and most shockingly, after the death of his father, Kurt Hummel will be moving to our fair city. Now, everyone here knows about the shock that went through this town when his mother, Elizabeth Weston, ran off with a mechanic to Ohio...”_

Blaine snapped his laptop shut, already mentally preparing the apology speech to Dottie. He had to get back stateside.

***

Present day...

***

Blaine stepped through the doors of Anderson Manor and sighed, rolling up his sleeves to fix the place. 

“Home sweet home,” he whispered as he got to work.

After all, he’d be having a guest soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

***

Blaine stroked the creamy petals fondly, letting the familiar scent invade his nostrils before closing the greenhouse door tightly and locking it. The sun had finally sunk down beneath the trees and he was free to roam.

He headed straight for the Weston house.

Hopping over the back wall, he leapt up onto the room and crept along until he was above the familiar room. Carefully, he dropped down from the eaves to the top of the windowsill, glancing in. 

Kurt Hummel was curled into a little ball on his bed. 

Blaine blinked in fascination, leaning forward until his nose pressed against the glass slightly as he watched the rise and fall of the young man’s chest.

It was a moment of incredible stillness as he quietly watched the seventeen year old sleep not-so-peacefully through the night.

Kurt had certainly grown in the nine years that he hadn’t seen him, but he was far too skinny for someone of his age and stature and his face had a slightly sunken look to it--no doubt the strong affects of grief.

There was also the unmistakable sign of tear tracks along his cheeks.

Blaine’s shoulders slumped in sudden and abrupt distress that he couldn’t quite figure out and he batted down the urge to open the window to see if Kurt was truly alright. 

He also found himself wanting to linger, to wait the whole night incase his dreams should happen to turn to nightmares so that he could slide the window open--that is, if the invitation from nine years ago was still binding--and pat his shoulder gently, easing away the bad dreams.

But that was absurd, and overstepping his bounds more than he already was right now. No, Kurt Hummel was, for the meantime, safe and sound, which was enough to be grateful for.

And so he gave a sort of half-smile before dropping down into the snow neatly, heading back out through the backyard wall.

***

He woke before sundown because something was wrong.

In a second Blaine was dressed and racing down into the den, next to the draped window, ears listening.

Running. Someone was running through the woods.

His nostrils flared as he waited, impatient as the sun lazily made its way past afternoon. Multiple people running. If they went anywhere near the well...

No. That’s not where they were headed. They were going the opposite direction.

The sun had sunk far enough to the tip of the trees to give him cover as he flung the window open and jumped out, taking off running through the snow. Through the woods he raced, leaping from shadow to shadow as he avoided the large patches of sunlight as he made is way towards the movement.

He heard the bulk of voices first.

“--mel!” 

“Jesus he can run fast!”

“It’s always the skinny ones that surprise you.”

“It doesn’t matter--we have his tracks and he can’t run forever.”

“I swear, as soon as I get my hands on Hummel, I’m going to wring his blue-collared neck--”

Blaine was completely unable to stop the growl that ripped viciously from his throat.

The tracks paused. “Dude, what was that?”

“Nothing, probably just--”

Blaine grabbed a tree trunk and snapped it clean in half, the crack short yet ear-splitting.

“I’m getting out of here!”

“What about Hummel?”

“We’ll get him in the morning, come on!”

The group turned and ran.

Good thing too. Had they not been in partial sunlight, Blaine would have run after them.

Instead, he wove his way through the shadows, skin prickling in irritation at the close proximity of the fading sun.

He reached the edge of the forest to the large clearing where the lighthouse stood, tall and ominous.

Footsteps led right up to it and he could hear breathing from inside, at the top.

And so he leaned against a tree and waited for Kurt to appear.

An hour passed.

And then another.

The sun finally set completely, bathing the landscape in darkness as Blaine stepped out from the trees into the clearing, staring up at the lighthouse.

After a short while, there was movement and Kurt’s face appeared at the window. Even from a good sixty feet down, he could see the sudden terror in his expression as his face disappeared again.

It was the only thing that kept Blaine from opening the lighthouse door and calling up to him.

Instead he waited, staring up at the lighthouse. Jumping up to the balcony was futile because there would be no way he could perch on it considering he couldn’t even cross a finger over a closed iron circuit. Besides, he highly doubted that that’d be the wisest decision. He considered going in through the door, but he swore that he’d never enter that lighthouse again and he was definitely sticking to that promise.

But he didn’t like the idea of Kurt in the lighthouse. He’d spent...god, too much time there. He’d clawed at the insides and gone half out of his mind and it marked the worst period of his entire existence. And the fact that this was the place that Kurt ran to in order to hide...

Unsettled, he waited, as the clouds drained from the sky and the night filled with stars.

His mind continued to wander to the topic of the boy above. Kurt was clearly unhappy at his home considering that he was crying the night prior. And he was unhappy at school considering the boys chasing him earlier. From the looks of it, there was nothing in Provincetown that actually appealed to Kurt in anyway.

He needed someplace--a haven where he could relax, or...or maybe a friend.

Blaine blinked before racing back to his house and grabbing a shovel.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

***

After around an hour of meticulous shoveling, a narrow path was created from the front stoop of Anderson Manor all the way to the door of the lighthouse. 

Blaine stood once more at the edge of the trees, watching the structure as the light slowly started filtering across the sky.

There was movement from within and he could hear a faint groaning noise. He stilled, eyes staring up at the window, waiting...

Finally, Kurt’s face appeared on the other side of the glass.

And then it was gone, disappeared again.

Blaine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was almost sunrise and Kurt wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The best he could hope for was to wait for him to come to the house--if he would at all, that was.

So he turned and walked back to Anderson Manor.

Locking the door, he started his usual procedure from the top floor going down, making sure all the windows were secure and draped sufficiently to block out all light. By the time he got down to the first floor, he was ready to call it a night, taking one last look outside as dawn broke out across the sky. A figure opening the gate caught his attention.

Kurt had come after all.

Blaine didn’t even fully register what was happening before he was out the window, racing far too fast down the path as Kurt turned to look behind him at something. He physically had to force himself to stop before crashing into him, standing still on the path as Kurt turned to look back at him.

Kurt’s eyes widened in surprise and terror as a scream briefly ripped out of his throat and he stumbled a step backwards. 

Slightly chagrined, Blaine realized that maybe popping up in front of him hadn’t been the best plan of action.

But he couldn’t stop staring. It was Kurt, in the flesh, not on the other side of the window or unconscious. He was a seventeen year old boy and alive and full of expressions that were flitting across his face at top speed.

There was something that was just so...vibrant about him, even with his unkempt brown hair flopping over his forehead from the night sleeping on the floor. His eyes were bright and alert and hyperaware and his cheeks had a high flush in them from the cold and his pulse was hammering against the side of his neck and Blaine could count all the little freckles across his nose.

He was beautiful.

“It’s cold outside,” Blaine said quietly, holding up a hand in invitation, a smile positioned to pounce up onto his lips. “Won’t you come in?”

Kurt’s heart rate skyrocketed and he took another stumbling step backwards before turning and running.

Blaine’s hand dropped and his heart felt oddly heavy in his chest even though it had been over two hundred years since he’d felt it do anything at all.

***

“Blaine?”

Blaine looked up from his dresser, a smile tugging at his lips as he raced downstairs to the kitchen.

Kurt looked up from the sizzling stove with a grin, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear with a flour-covered hand, streaking it white.

“Darling, you’ve got flour everywhere,” Blaine chuckled as he walked over to smooth the powder out of Kurt’s hair and letting his hand linger there.

Kurt smiled, nuzzling against his palm affectionately before turning back to the stove. “I was wondering if you had any oregano?”

Blaine  wrapped an arm around Kurt’s waist before reaching up with the other one and plucking the oregano off the shelf above the stove. “Here you are.”

“Mmmm, thank you,” Kurt sighed as he sprinkled it lightly into the pan, tilting his head to the side as Blaine started gently peppering it with kisses. “Blaine, I’m trying to prepare dinner.”

“So am I,” Blaine whispered against the soft skin at the crook of Kurt’s jaw, his fangs sliding out to graze the skin lightly. “I’m just heating you up, first.”

Kurt sagged against him, letting--

Blaine sat up in bed, arms quaking oddly. 

He looked around the room, making sure that it was empty, ears pricking for any sounds in the kitchen.

Nothing. The house was empty. Just like it always was.

Blaine sighed, rubbing his hands over his face as he glanced at the clock, surprised that he’d slept in so late. It was nearly midnight.

He rolled out of bed and pulled on clothes. Time for his nightly visit.

***

After hopping the back wall, Blaine knew that something was very wrong. 

In a second, he was across the yard and jumping up to the roof, then down to Kurt’s window.

Kurt was thrashing in his bed, heart beating out of his chest as he borderline hyperventilated. 

Without thinking, Blaine raised the window and slid in. He was at a loss what to do.

Kurt gasped himself awake, breathing heavily, eyes searching blindly until they landed on Blaine and his whole body froze. 

Kurt let out a blood-curdling scream before launching over to the wall.

Blaine was gone before the light switch went up. 

He sat on top of the roof, listening to Kurt’s breathing to even out slightly before choked sobs started floating out the window.

Blaine stared down at the little lit window, fingers twitching with the urge to swing back down into Kurt’s room and offer comfort, but he was pretty sure that he was the last person that Kurt wanted to see.

And a much bigger fear weighed down on Blaine’s mind.

Was he the cause of the nightmares?

***

The next night he went back and stayed on the roof the whole time.

He felt himself rip apart a bit more as Kurt’s screams tore through the air.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

***

The problem with being a vampire trying to keep a low profile in a gossipy town was that he had to make enough appearances about town as to not draw attention to himself. 

The problem with being a vampire trying to keep a low profile in a gossipy town was that he also had to feed.

Luckily, he could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

Blaine walked through the supermarket, grabbing various spices and produce and pasta and all the other sorts of things that teenage boys presumedly needed to survive. He could feel eyes following him and snorted at the various whispers going on--mostly on the rest of his “family” across seas and what they must being doing at this moment and why haven’t they returned to the cape to visit and other such matters. 

Blaine rolled his eyes as he picked up a bulb of garlic and smiled at it ironically.

“Blaine Anderson?”

He turned, adopting a charming smile as a very put-together middle aged woman smiled at him with perfect teeth, holding out a hand. “Yes?”

“Hi,” she said warmly, yet still oddly stilted--her subconscious picking up on the threat, no doubt. “Jennifer Wilde.”

“Charmed,” he said smoothly, grasping her hand and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss.

Her smile widened. “Well, aren’t you the charmer?” She looked him up and down and Blaine did his very best not to groan out loud. He knew were this was heading... “So you’re taking a gap year?”

“Yes,” he nodded eagerly. “Just taking some more time to consider colleges.”

“Is there anything you’re doing in particular?”

“Just studying,” he shrugged. “Keeping my mind sharp. Don’t want to slack off too much.”

“That’s an awful lot of free time on your hands,” she tutted. “Are you doing anything this Friday night?”

Shit. “Well, I--”

“Because my daughter, Kitty--”

Of course. Of course she had a daughter.

“--will be attending the annual White Christmas Cotillion. I’m sure you know of it?”

“Indeed,” Blaine nodded. He’d been around for the first one, after all. 

“And of course I’d like a nice young man with a good family to escort her,” Jennifer went on. “So I was wondering perhaps if you’d like the honor?”

He gave an apologetic smile. “So sorry, but I already have plans for that evening.”

“Not something that could wait?” she said acceptingly, but attentively--looking for another angle to work.

“I’m afraid not,” he shook his head. “It’s a date I’ve put off for far too long.”

“A date?” Her eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t think you got out that much.”

Blaine gave a non-committal shrug. “People turn up in the most surprising of places.”

She nodded, taking a step back. “Well, it’s getting late. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

It was early but well...never mind. “Not at all, Ms. Wilde. I’ll see you later.”

“I’m counting on it,” she smiled, before turning to go.

Blaine’s smile dropped. That’s what he’d been dreading.

***

After dumping his groceries in the backseat, he drove to the hospital. 

There was something about hospitals that he’d never particularly liked--which was odd considering he’d never actually spent longer than perhaps an hour in one. Nevertheless, they tended to set his teeth on edge. Maybe because he was walking past dying humans that he could easily cure and he didn’t entirely care. 

Maybe it was because they reminded him just how not-human he was. 

In the basement was the blood bank, and that’s where he shopped. 

He grabbed only a bag--just to tide him over until his Boston trip the next week. He didn’t need to feed often, and blood banks were the best solution--blood that came from a living being, therefore making it still drinkable and not poison. 

Not wholly perfect--microwaving it was a bitch--but enough to keep him satisfied. 

He took a bag of O-positive and ignored the way his jaws ached for something to actually sink his teeth into.

***

“Blaine.”

Blaine angled Kurt’s head back towards him to swallow his shallow breaths in a heavy kiss, clutching him tighter. Then they were lying down on the bed, Blaine pressing Kurt into the thick velvet sheets, his fingers clasped tightly around his wrist, marking their pulse. 

Kurt tilted his head to the side as Blaine kissed down his jaw, sucking on the skin sharply. His teeth accidentally nicked the skin and hot blood oozed out gently. Blaine felt his fangs slide out as his mouth filled with venom and--

Blaine groaned as he rolled over in bed, pressing his head into the pillows. He looked up to glare blearily at the headboard. 

It was early, sun barely set. He should lie back down for at least another two hours of sleep, but his skin felt restless. For the second night in a row since feeding. 

Plus now he was cranky.

With a sigh he got dressed and headed out for a walk.

Someone was on his property.

Suddenly alert, Blaine started forward through the trees. Someone was going to the well. 

That spelled catastrophe for everyone. 

He ran forward, breaking the tree line to see Kurt standing in front of the well, reaching towards it...

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned, stopping just behind him.

Kurt spun around and stared at him in surprise, eyes widening. He was all bundled up against the cold weather--a welcome change since the last time he’d seen him in the snow only in his uniform when he’d spent the night in the lighthouse. 

Kurt blinked, burrowing slightly further down into his scarf before shaking his head. “What?” 

“The well,” Blaine replied, brain scrambling to find proper conversation points. “It’s very old. You might damage it.” 

“Oh,” Kurt nodded, looking back at the well that stood as a dark patch against the blanket of snow. “I...okay.”

Blaine took Kurt in, watching him curiously. He seemed much less terrified than he had the last time they’d met, so that was good. But as the silence prolonged, he heard his heart race start to creep up slightly. 

Blaine spoke again eagerly. “Can I ask why you’re on my property?”

“Your property?” Kurt said faintly, surprised. 

Blaine raised his eyebrows, wondering how much--if anything--Kurt knew about him. “Yes. It’s been in my family for generations.”

“Oh,” Kurt blinked, blushing slightly. The color looked utterly delectable on him. “I’m sorry. I just...I was looking...” He looked around suddenly, confused.

“Looking...?” Blaine prompted as he tilted his head curiously. There was something off about Kurt. His eyes darted to the well for a split second. He had a feeling this had something to do with Marley.

“For answers,” Kurt replied awkwardly, wringing his fingers.

Blaine nodded. “Some questions are better left un--” He froze, the scent of fresh blood filling his nostrils. He glanced down at the source--Kurt’s hands that were suddenly still from their prior wringing. “You’re hurt...” he said quietly, ignoring the rush of liquid in his mouth as an odd throbbing sensation filled his head. 

“I--” That was as far as Kurt got before Blaine took his wrists a bit too fast, looking at the raw scrapes on his palm that were irritated and cracked and bleeding. “It’s nothing, it’s fine.” Kurt shrugged, his scarf shifting down from his jaw, catching Blaine’s attention.

Kurt’s jaw had a nasty scrape on it as well. 

The throbbing in Blaine’s head grew more pronounced as his thought process started to slow down and his fingers went to the damaged skin, mind recalling the way his teeth had scraped over the very spot in his dream that he’d just woke from. A few of his fingers strayed down to Kurt’s neck, feeling his pulse accelerate as a strange feeling filled his chest that felt almost possessive. 

“What happened?” Blaine asked quietly, body wound tight like a coil and ready to spring in various different directions, all depending upon Kurt’s answer..

“I...” Kurt floundered slightly, licking his lips. Blaine’s eyes darted down to them, distracted. The throbbing in his head lessened slightly, but the possessive feeling in his chest just flared stronger.  He unconsciously felt himself leaning forward slightly, to minuscule for the human eye. “I tripped and fell at school. Skidded on the ice.”

The sudden racing against Blaine’s middle finger said otherwise. “You’re lying.”

“What?”

He tapped his finger against Kurt’s pulse at the crook of his neck. “Your heartbeat sped up. You’re lying.”

Kurt blinked. “I--it’s none of your business.”

Like hell it wasn’t. “You’re on my property. That makes it my business.” 

You’re mine. That makes it my business. 

Blaine blinked, not even sure where that thought had come from.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Kurt protested, his back straightening as his temperature rose in anger.

Blaine felt his fangs start to edge out in anger as the throbbing grew and he tightened his grip. “Kurt, what happened?”

“Ouch!”

Blaine released Kurt instantly, his hands burning as that one word cooled down everything in his systems. He looked at Kurt hopelessly, remembering times when his temper had gotten the better of him...and pushing it back as he cleared his throat. “Apologies. I did not intend to hurt you.” He reached out, fingers wanting contact again before forcing his hand back down to his side. This was hardly the way he wanted his first conversation with Kurt to go. “I should walk you home,” he said quietly. “It’s getting late.”

Kurt rubbed his wrist, causing Blaine to feel even guiltier, before nodding, falling into step next to Blaine and as they walked away from the well and out of the meadow. 

There was a long silence, which Blaine tried to figure out a way to break. He didn’t know how to approach Kurt, considering their rocky beginnings, and he didn’t even know what he wanted from him. All he knew was that he wished to remain close to him in any sort of capacity, but he had no idea how to bring that about. 

“May I take you out for dinner tonight?”

Well...that was one way.

Kurt looked over at him in surprise. “What?”

“Lobster dinner.” Blaine said suddenly, inspired. “Tonight. Around eight?”

“But...” Kurt frowned at him, utterly bewildered. “Why?”

“Because you seem like a pleasant young man and I’m absent company,” Blaine smiled, turning up the charm. This, he could do. This was simple and easy territory.

Kurt looked at him, hesitating. “I...I can’t. I have homework.”

Understandable. “Friday, perhaps?” Blaine tried again.

“Sorry,” Kurt shook his head, trudging through the snow. Blaine considered offering him a piggyback ride before realizing that that probably wasn’t the best idea. “I have some cotillion thing that I have to go to.”

Fair enough. “Well what about--”

“I don’t want to go to dinner with you, okay?” Kurt said suddenly,  the sound echoing through the forest.

Blaine stared at him in surprise, realization coming upon him. Kurt didn’t want his company in any way, shape, or form. Despite the connection to him that Blaine felt so strongly, Kurt was not of a like mind. To him, Blaine was just another random stranger who had behaved very oddly and in an extremely untoward fashion.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, for multiple accounts. “I shouldn’t have pressed. It’s just...” His eyes trailed from Kurt’s thin cheeks to his shivering arms. “...you don’t look very well and I thought maybe some food and company might help.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt sighed. “I mean, it’s not _fine_ fine, it’s just...” He looked back over at Blaine, shoulders dropping slightly. “I’m sorry for losing my temper. I’ve been really exhausted lately...” He rubbed at his eyes wearily.

Blaine noticed the dark circles, Kurt’s words circulating around in his head before reaching a dark conclusion. “Bad dreams?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Kurt muttered, lips twitching in an effort to stifle a yawn.

They fell into silence again, Blaine brooding over the newfound knowledge and what it meant. Shortly after, they reached the front gate of Weston Manor. 

“I’ll take my leave,” Blaine said, snapping out of his thoughts as he halted just outside them. 

“Thank you for the walk back,” Kurt said, and it seemed sincere. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Blaine felt his lips tugging up into a smile. “Goodnight, Kurt Hummel.”

“Goodnight, Blaine,” Kurt said, his lips tugging up slightly in response. 

Blaine turned, running back to his apartment at full speed, plan formulating in his mind. 

He swung around back to his greenhouse and plucked a gardenia. Grabbing a notecard from just inside, he picked up a pen and wrote a short message. Then it was back to Weston Manor and over the back wall, up the roof and into Kurt’s room. He slid in easily and placed the flower and the note on Kurt’s bed.

 

Briefly, he wondered if maybe what he’d done was too forward. After all, a message on the pillow seemed a tad intimate. And Kurt didn’t seem to know much of anything about him.

Except...he’d know his name. He’d called him Blaine. 

And Blaine had never formally introduced himself to Kurt.

Satisfied, he turned to leave before a distinct smell hit his nose.

Blood. Kurt's blood.

His nostrils flared as he turned towards the source, walking over towards the open bathroom door. 

Inside was a simple bathroom. The tub was filled with water, a lot of which had sloshed out. Right next to one of the clawed feet was a knife, dried blood on its edges.

The picture clicked together in Blaine's brain in a way that he really didn't want to accept.

Footsteps sounded coming up the stairs and Blaine took one last fleeting look at the bathroom before going over to the window and jumping back up onto the roof, mind churning. 

He heard the door to Kurt’s room open and feet padding across the carpet, stopping at the bed. Kurt whispered the message aloud as he read it.

“Sweet dreams, Kurt.”

There was a rustle as he climbed under the covers and drifted off. 

Blaine waited, intent on ensuring that the dreams priorly filled with _her_ were gone--along with the consequences, like he'd seen in the bathroom--and in their place, harmless ones of himself.

But what he heard next from Kurt’s bedroom was not something that he’d been wholly anticipating.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

***

Hours past and a soft moaning sound echoed through Kurt’s room. 

Blaine blinked, shaking his head slightly to dislodge the light sprinkling of snow that had settled there in the hours he’d perched--clearly a storm was coming soon--and leaping down to Kurt’s window, sliding in. He shut the window carefully, worried that the sound might wake Kurt, who was clearly moaning in pain from his injuries.

“Oh! _Oh_.”

Blaine’s eyes widened as he wheeled around. 

Kurt was lying on his bed, strewn across tangled sheets, his comforter kicked down to the foot as he writhed around, sweaty. His face and hands were burrowed into his pillow as he kicked against the bedspread, grinding down into it. 

Okay, so...not moaning in pain. 

Blaine gulped slightly as his vision grew abruptly sharper and his brain went a bit fuzzy. He stepped forward, the overwhelming scent of gardenias and Kurt and _want_ slamming into him as Kurt clutched at his pillow desperately, moaning into it as his hips arched off the bed.

Kurt flipped over suddenly, writhing restlessly in his sheets as one of his hands dragged down his chest, destination clear.

Blaine’s senses seemed to catch up with him and he turned around, confident that his cheeks would be burning if he had any warm blood in his system. The heavy breathing and drawn-out moans continued behind him as he carefully opened Kurt’s window and jumped down to the light sprinkling of snow below. 

He could still hear the sounds from Kurt’s room and his mouth still filled with venom as he took off running.

In the shower back home, he started to process. 

Kurt had saved him from utter torment when he was a child, to which Blaine repaid by...almost killing him.

Kurt was in his life once more and Blaine felt very protective of him because of the deed he’d done, and also because he was the great-grandson of a long-deceased dear friend. 

He wanted to make sure that Kurt was safe and living life to the fullest, which he clearly was not due to the recent tragedy within his life.

Kurt was a very handsome young man that Blaine found himself attracted to. 

The only conversation that they’d had together had included an argument, Blaine hurting Kurt accidentally, no introductions, and Kurt rejecting Blaine’s offer for a date.

Blaine leaned against the marble wall of the shower with a groan, wondering precisely how he’d even managed to get himself into this situation in the first place. But his course of action was clear--he would look after Kurt and nothing more. Just keep an eye on him.

***

There was the distinct noise of snow crunching on the walkway and Blaine awoke, pulling on a dressing gown and racing downstairs, yawning as he pulled open the front door. 

Kurt was standing there, looking at him with wide eyes, hair covered in snow, face red, and eyes wide and scared.

“Kurt?” Blaine said in surprise, stepping forward. “What are you doing here?”

“I...” Kurt blinked, looking around, confused and frightened. “I don’t know.”

“Are you alright?” Blaine asked, concerned as he gave him a once-over. “It’s freezing outside.” 

“I’m fine,” Kurt frowned, still not looking at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Blaine said faintly, reaching out to lightly touch Kurt’s arm. “But come in, you must be drenched.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” Kurt shook his head, shivering slightly. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know why I came here. I should head back.”

“Nonsense,” Blaine chided. “Come in, I insist. At least get yourself warm.”

Kurt looked torn. “I don’t know--”

“And I’ll drive you back myself,” Blaine reassured.

Kurt hesitated briefly before nodding.

Blaine smiled. “Welcome to Anderson Manor, Kurt.” He moved aside to let Kurt step in through the doorway.

Kurt looked around the place in wonder and Blaine’s chest tightened, suddenly ready to spring, if needed. Kurt looked perfect in his home, like he belonged there. And Blaine would do anything to ensure that he’d stay there with him forever. Silently, he walked up behind Kurt, watching the delicious flush return to his neck. 

“Are those candles?” Kurt asked quietly, neck craning upwards, displaying the taut pale skin.

Blaine kicked the door shut sharply before leaning in close next to Kurt’s ear, inhaling the scent deeply. “Yes,” he whispered, lips caressing the frail skin. “I think it’s romantic, don’t you?” He trailed his hands down Kurt’s arms slowly, relishing the warmth emanating from them as his fingers went down to dance around the pulse points of his wrist. 

A long shudder went through Kurt as he turned around in Blaine’s loose embrace, eyelids heavy as he gazed at him. “Romantic?”

Blaine smirked as he leaned in close. “For you, Kurt. I’ve been waiting here for you for so long...”

He sprung, grabbing Kurt by the waist and pushing him against one of the curtains, enveloping them in velvet. He mouthed hungrily, starving at Kurt’s neck, running the fronts of his teeth against the skin roughly. Kurt’s hands scrabbled in his hair as he stretched his neck in invitation as Blaine moved to right over his jugular, biting into it with a groan as hot blood poured down his throat--

Blaine’s eyes flew open. It was late, far past dinner time. He’d slept in.

Outside, the blizzard had stopped, and snow was softly falling.

***

So apparently his attraction to Kurt wasn’t something that he could just switch off at will. 

And, upon further reflection, he highly doubted that he’d be able to just objectively look after Kurt without any sort of romantic feelings cropping up. 

Not to mention, he’d broken his favorite pen when the thought of Kurt and someone else had flitted across his mind. 

But, of course, the decision was up to Kurt ultimately. Though, he’d hardly had a fair shot at any sort of relationship entanglement with him considering the unfortunate nature of their first true encounter. So there was no reason why he couldn’t try and ramify that. 

Back in the days of his mortal youth, he would call it wooing. But from the centuries past, he was leaning more towards “desperately presenting himself in a hopefully flattering light and doing his best not to somehow frighten the object of his affections again”. 

He could be charming. He was good at it. He just needed the right setting...

Blaine smiled as an idea sprang to mind.

***

The first White Christmas Cotillion had been the last White Christmas Cotillion that he’d attended, and in the century past, it honestly had not changed all that much. Girls rushed back to their rooms in their ostentatious white dresses, the boys gathered in their own respective rooms, and parents and the rest of high society gathered in the ball room, milling about and sitting at tables while they waited for their seventeen year olds to descend the staircase.

Blaine fondly remembered Charlotte grumbling while she’d walked down the steps on the arm of some petrified boy. 

Kurt was back with the other boys, getting ready. Blaine felt the little flower in his pocket that he was hoping to offer him. He snuck up behind the announcer’s podium and read the list.

_Katherine “Kitty” Bianca Wilde, escorted by Kurt Elizabeth Hummel._

Well. Talk about irony. 

Blaine turned, walking away and tugging at his century-and-a-quarter old jacket, wondering briefly if it was a bit too out of place. Granted, it was the only white thing he owned, but still. What if Kurt didn’t want to stand out, or be around anyone else that did so?

“Fifty bucks, Edmond. Come on.”

“Are you sure? I mean, is it really worth the trouble, Scott?”

“Duh. Just switch out my name for Hummel’s. Or I could take my money back.”

“No no no, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

Blaine turned, stepping behind a column discreetly to watch two teenagers talking with the announcer before walking off. He followed them closely, listening in. 

“Dude, you’re a genius for thinking this up.”

“Nah man, it’s perfect. Kill two birds with one stone. Humiliate Hummel and come to Kitty’s rescue. She’ll be so happy that she’ll probably be begging for it tonight. And we’ll get to see Hummel standing up there all alone like an idiot.”

Blaine had heard enough. He briefly  considered just snapping both of their necks and being done with it, but he came up with a better idea. 

Doubling back, he went over to the announcer. “Edmond, right?”

Edmond jumped, turning to look at him. “I--Blaine Anderson?”

“That’s me,” Blaine grinned.

“Wow, I--sorry, it’s just there’s a lot--”

“Of talk about me around town,” Blaine nodded. “I know, trust me. But I was wondering if you could maybe do me a little favor?” Discreetly, he slipped a hundred onto the podium next to the list.

Edmond stared at it in disbelief before nodding hurriedly. “Yes, yes I can. What do you need?”

“Well, Kurt Hummel is alone on the list, correct?” Blaine raised his eyebrows.

Edmond paled significantly. “I--”

“That’s quite alright,” Blaine waved his hand nonchalantly. “Keep your arrangement with Scott. I’m just here to inform you that I will be escorting Mr. Hummel this evening.”

“Oh,” Edmond said hurriedly, looking unsure. “I just--”

“If that’s not too much trouble,” Blaine said, his voice lowering as he took a step forward and stared Edmond dead in the eyes.

“No,” Edmond shook his head. “No trouble at all.”

“Good!” Blaine smiled, backing off. “Oh, and use my full title as well.”

Edmond nodded, writing it in.

***

Shortly thereafter, the announcements began. Blaine lingered back by his column as the young men and women walked forward, getting into their appropriate lines. He was unable to stifle his smile when Kurt appeared, dressed in all black. Of course he was. Blaine had been an idiot to suspect that Kurt might be adverse to his own outfit, because Kurt continued to be full of surprises. 

Blaine waited, as the lines grew shorter and Kurt’s bored expression peaked. He looked so...well, utterly delicious in his waistcoat--that definitely was far older than Kurt--and ascot/scarf combination. His leather lace-up boots were delectable as well. Blaine wanted to unlace them with his teeth.

Blinking away that thought for later inspection, Blaine focused as the line came to an end. 

“Katherine ‘Kitty’ Bianca Wilde,” Edmond said clearly over the staircase. Kitty walked forward to the front of the steps and fluffed her white dress. Blaine spotted Jennifer patting her stomach and mouthing at Kitty to suck it in. He sighed, feeling a modicum of pity for the girl. “Making her debut to Provincetown society and escorted by Scott Gregory Harrington III.” 

Blaine watched on in distaste as Scott brushed past Kurt and took Kitty’s hand, walking down the staircase and shooting a nasty look back at Kurt. 

Blaine walked forward behind Edmond, watching Kurt’s face which was utterly confused and humiliated, and feeling another rush of animosity towards Scott. But he’d deal with that later.

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Edmond called. Kurt blinked, confused as he walked forward cautiously to the top of the staircase. Several people below had looked up in confusion, Scott among them. “Making his debut to Provincetown society and escorted with Duke Blaine Devon Anderson VIII.”

Kurt looked over sharply, eyes widening as he spotted Blaine walking out from behind Edmond. Blaine smiled at him warmly, offering a hand. Kurt took it and they walked down the sweeping staircase together, the whispers of the crowd--mostly wondering how they knew each other, others asking if Blaine was really a duke, and still others muttering about their odd ensembles--permeating through the air as they reached the bottom.

The music carried on and Blaine turned to Kurt, bringing his hand up to his lips for a kiss. “May I have this dance?”

A shiver went through Kurt, but it did not appear to be one of fear. “I’m not really accustomed to dancing with men that I’ve only had a single conversation with.”

Blaine felt his lips quirking up. “Well, I only came here to dance with you, Kurt. So I might as well leave if I cannot.” He ran his thumb soothingly across the back of Kurt’s hand. 

Kurt blinked, licking his lips suddenly, drawing Blaine’s attention to them once more. Blaine seriously considered leaning forward for a kiss or grabbing Kurt and dragging him off to a private room--either were good. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to waste the trip.”

Blaine smiled before settling his right hand on Kurt’s hip and pulling him effortlessly into the flitting dancers. 

It was amazing how easy it was to dance with Kurt, and how fast time went by when he did so. Had he not known the songs playing so well, he wouldn’t have realized that they danced for three songs straight without saying a word to one another. 

Somewhere at the beginning of the fifth, Kurt broke the silence.

“Duke?”

Blaine smiled wryly. “Just a title, passed down from Duke Blaine Anderson I over the years. Never meant much until Blaine Anderson IV was honored by the queen.” He nodded to the cords and pins on his uniform, suppressing a smile at the memory of how he’d really gotten them. 

Kurt nodded and they waltzed more. There was something about the feeling of Kurt in his arms that made Blaine feel peaceful. Whole. Like things in his existence had just clicked easily into place.

A few waltzes later, Kurt broke the silence again. “Why did you come here to dance with me tonight?”

“Because I think you’re fascinating,” Blaine said easily, dipping him briefly. He paused slightly before deciding now or never. “And I wanted to invite you out to dinner with me tomorrow night.” 

Kurt’s arms tensed slightly. “Why are you so adamant on dinner?” he sighed. 

Because you’re wonderful and lovely and I want to listen to everything you have to say and then make sweet love to you all night long and even into the morning. “Because I want to spend time with you,” he said softly. “And I’ll tell you everything that you want to know.” 

Kurt stared at him, eyes guarded. “What do you mean?”

“All those little questions you’ve been having,” Blaine said quietly as he leant forward to whisper against the area between Kurt’s ear and neck. “About the well...and the lighthouse...and those dreams that you’ve been having...”

Kurt pulled back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Blaine stared at him, lips tempted to quirk into a smile. “Plus you want to spend time with me as well.”

“No I don’t,” Kurt denied adamantly. 

“Then why is this our seventh song dancing together?” Blaine grinned.

Kurt blinked, looking around and seemingly just realizing how long they’d been dancing together.

Blaine pulled him in slightly closer. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”

Kurt looked back at him, expression unreadable.

“We can have lobster,” Blaine hedged on. “I know the perfect restaurant.”

Kurt hesitated. “I...fine.”

Blaine blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, suddenly stern. “But you have to answer all my questions.”

“I promise,” Blaine smiled happily, whirling them easily off the dance floor, towards the door. “I have to take my leave. Would you like a ride home?”

Kurt paused again before nodding. “Fine.”

Blaine nodded and they walked out, hands linked together. 

***

The ride home was more on the quiet side, and Blaine put on Roxy Music to fill the silence. Kurt glanced over at the radio in surprise, but made no comment towards it. They drove through the quiet snowy streets until reaching the front gate of Weston Manor. “Here we are,” Blaine said as Kurt hopped out to open the gate.

He drove him up to the front door and opened Kurt’s, holding out a hand for him. Kurt took it and stepped out of the car.

“Thank you for helping me earlier,” Kurt said abruptly, trying to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “You...” he cleared his throat. “...saved me from a lot of embarrassment.”

“It was nothing,” Blaine said sincerely, reaching over to push the lock firmly behind Kurt’s ear.

Things around them grew very quiet as the snow softly fell. 

Kurt was staring at him openly, his blue-gray eyes stark against the dark landscape. 

Blaine’s hand drifted down to Kurt’s breast pocket, resting over his heart and feeling the secure beat through the fabric. He leaned in, with every intent of kissing Kurt.

But at the last minute, he diverted to the side, his hand reaching back into his own pocket, plucking the gardenia out of it and sliding it into Kurt’s breast pocket, all happening in less than a tenth of a second. 

“Sweet dreams, Kurt,” he whispered across Kurt’s ear before pulling back and returning to his car.

On his way off the grounds, he looked into his rearview mirror and saw Kurt standing there alone in the snow, staring after him. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

***

Blaine woke up in a panic. 

A date. He had a date tonight.

After the prior night’s usual check-up on his human--which consisted of a great deal of moaning  and pleading that led to Blaine making a hurried exit back to his house--Blaine had fallen into a fitful sleep which included lots of naked pale skin stretched out across his bed.

And now he was screwed. It had been over a century since he’d been on a date.

The preparations were easy enough--he just called ahead to the restaurant, dropped his name, and gave them the order. Then he tore apart his closet anxiously. He was supposed to pick Kurt up in an hour and god why hadn’t he chosen an outfit before and--

He stopped, taking a deep calming breath. It was just Kurt. It was just dinner. Kurt would eat. Blaine would answer some questions. Hopefully, they’d grow closer because of it. 

But Blaine wouldn’t tell him what he was. He’d already decided that. It was far easier to just to explain what he could, and then after Kurt would hopefully trust him more, he could entrust Kurt to his biggest secret at a later point. 

That seemed like the most practical thing to do. 

He stopped worrying about dressing and just went simple--khaki slacks that he had to roll up a bit, simple blue-gray dress shirt, his lobster cardigan, and oxford shoes. 

Taking a deep breath he smoothed his hair back neatly, ready for the night to come.

***

A minute until eight, Blaine pulled smoothly through the already-open gates of Weston Manor and up the drive. He slid out of his car and waited, knocking on the door when the clock inside began to chime at eight.

The door swung open and Kurt stood in the doorway, looking good enough to eat in his red pants, white dress shirt, and black vest that hugged his waist so snuggly that it encouraged Blaine to do the same. Then he spotted the little lobster pin on Kurt’s chest.

He’d given it to Charlotte a hundred years prior, when they’d gone out for lobster on the cape.

He smiled sadly at it for a brief second before looking back up at Kurt, smile turning to one of a lighter nature. “Good evening. I trust you’ve been well since we last parted?”

Kurt opened his mouth before pausing slightly, his eyes glazing over a little bit, before he stuttered out, “I--um...yes. Very well. And you?”

“Very well, thank you,” Blaine replied cordially as he held out his hand in invitation. “Shall we?”

Kurt smiled, taking his hand as he closed the door firmly shut behind them. 

***

The restaurant was in a little small cozy nook along the bay, one of the oldest restaurants there. It had been changed, passed through new management, moved locations, and even burned down at one point, but the lobster always remained the same, which was what Blaine was counting on. 

Parking was difficult, as it was a Saturday night, and the snow started falling softly outside, the promise of a blizzard close at hand. They rushed into the restaurant, shaking the snow out of their hair as they sat down for dinner. Drinks went by and Blaine was glad that he’d called ahead. 

“Here’s your lobster, sir.”

“Thank you,” Blaine nodded to the waitress as she placed the large red crustacean in front of Kurt before conveniently melting away.

“Wow,” Kurt said quietly, his eyes bulging out slightly at his dinner. “You weren’t kidding about this place pulling out all the stops.”

“It’s one of the most underrated restaurants in the city,” Blaine concurred with a smile as he watched Kurt clumsily crack open his lobster tail, clearly unused to the task.

“Are you sure you don’t want some?” Kurt asked as he plucked a chunk of the white meat from the shell before dipping it in butter. “I’m not entirely sure I can eat all of this by myself...” He tentatively took a bite of the lobster and his eyes slid shut as he let out a barely audible groan, tongue darting out to lick the butter off his fingers.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Blaine said immediately, feeling suddenly very uncharacteristically warm, his vision hyper-focusing as he watched the fascinating journey that the lobster would take from Kurt’s fingers to his lips, suddenly feeling very irrationally jealous of the dead crustacean--he too was dead, so why couldn’t he receive the same treatment? “I have a restrictive diet, so I’m not afforded such luxuries.” 

Though a small whisper in the back of his mind voiced that maybe one day he might have the luxury of Kurt for his dinner.

“Then why take me here?” Kurt asked curiously as he took another extremely-distracting bite of lobster. “If you can’t even eat?”

“Just to see the look on your face when you took your first bite,” Blaine said faintly, leaning to the side and cupping his neck, a lazy smile creeping onto his lips. “And let me assure you: It was well worth it.”

Understatement of the century.

Kurt smiled shyly back at him, his cheeks adorably stuffed with seafood before swallowing roughly. “So...you said you’d answer some of my questions?”

Blaine nodded silently. Some. He wouldn’t answer all, though.

Kurt cleaned his fingers and mouth with his napkin before sitting back in his chair, intent on solely listening. Blaine tried not to feel a pang of loss at the absence of lobster-devouring. But then Kurt kept eyeing the plate before leaning forward and continuing eating, much to Blaine’s delight. “How did you arrange to escort me last night?”

Blaine’s eyebrows raised. “Really? That’s your first question?”

“Well, I’m trying to start small,” Kurt shrugged as he munched contently on his lobster.

Blaine nodded, failing to keep the smile off of his face. “Well, I came last night to dance at least once with you, as I’d stated, and I was pondering on how exactly I could get you to accept said proposal when I over heard the young Mr. Harrington bribing the announcer to add his name to the roster in lieu of yours. So I merely did some bribing of my own and I ended up as your escort.”

“Okay...” Kurt nodded as he sucked the last of the meat from the lobster, coming away with juices all over his face--an act that made Blaine’s brain go blank for a few seconds. Kurt wiped his face with the napkin. “How did you know my name when we met in the...meadow? I hadn’t introduced myself.”

Blaine took an imperceptible deep breath. “We’d met a long time ago.”

Kurt frowned. “When--”

The waitress came suddenly, swapping out Kurt’s lobster plate with a large slice of chocolate cheesecake, as Blaine had ordered. “Your dessert, sir.”

Kurt stared at the dessert in shock. “Oh my god, what?”

“Chocolate Godiva cheesecake,” Blaine smiled, grateful for the distraction as he folded his hands neatly. “I thought maybe you’d enjoy it.” 

Kurt took a tentative bite before he let out a low groan and gobbled down another. “But it’s so good...”

“That’s generally the idea,” Blaine let out a strangled laugh as he licked his lips, honing in on the smear of chocolate against Kurt’s lush pink lips as he realized that he’d leant forward a centimeter with the intent of licking it off.

“But all this food is so rich,” Kurt protested as he took another bite with relish. “I swear you’re trying to fatten me up for something.”

Blaine laughed at the irony. “No, I just wanted to see you looking healthy again. You were looking like you were on your deathbed for a while there...”

“What?” Kurt snorted. “All two times you saw me?”

“You left an impression,” Blaine shrugged, deflecting.

Kurt smiled, before tucking into his dessert. He got about halfway through before sitting back in his chair. “Okay, that was a good distraction, but I still have questions.”

“I’m at your disposal,” Blaine said honestly as he leaned forward. 

Kurt looked down, suddenly silent as he fiddled with his fingers. “Tell me about the well.”

Blaine looked off to the side, his jaw clenching in an effort to stop the involuntary slide of his fangs coming out at the mention of that place. “That’s...a long story.”

“Does it have to do with the lighthouse?” Kurt asked quietly. 

“Yes,” Blaine replied quietly.

“And you?”

“Yes,” Blaine sighed.

“And...” Kurt hesitated. “Me?”

Blaine looked back up at Kurt. “More than you know.”

“Tell me,” Kurt whispered, leaning forward.

Blaine sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I could tell you...but...it wouldn’t all make sense, especially here and now,” he said slowly, trying to think up a plan. “Could I maybe...show you instead?”

“What do you mean?” Kurt frowned, leaning forward further until Blaine could feel his breath ghosting across his face.

“Come back to my house.” The words slipped out of Blaine’s mouth before he even realized. “There are...props and other things that will help with the explanation. THere’s a lot of my family history that goes into this story...” He stared into Kurt’s wide eyes, wishing he could just blurt out the truth, but knowing that that wasn’t an option. “Will you come with me?”

Kurt’s lips parted slightly before he nodded.

Blaine smiled gratefully, filled with relief. “Thank you for trusting me.” This was the course he was aiming for--Kurt and he becoming more and more amicable as to ease into their odd situation. He pulled a credit card out of his wallet and onto the table. “Finish your cheesecake while I get the car. I don’t want you to catch a cold walking through that storm.”

Kurt nodded with a grin as he dug back into his cheesecake, and while Blaine was loathe to miss that sight, he needed time to think and formulate a proper plan for what exactly he was going to tell Kurt when they got back to his house. 

Outside, he was met with a thunder snowstorm, and he was thankful that he’d left Kurt inside. He ran back to his car, barely wet as he leaned against his seat and waited the appropriate time it would take for a human to run to their car. 

The truth was, he had no idea what he was going to tell Kurt. Maybe about him--well, his “great-grandfather”--in Provincetown with Charlotte. Perhaps he could spin that his fake ancestor and Kurt’s great-grandmother had a passionate love and that Blaine felt obligated to Kurt because of it...?

That even sounded stupid in his head.

He sighed, turning his key and pulling out of his spot, the wind-wipers going furiously to clear the snow away as he drove back to the restaurant, mind whirling.

He pulled up in front of the restaurant and hopped out, heading inside.

The booth where Kurt had been sitting in was empty. 

Blaine frowned as the waitress came by, handing him his credit card with a smile. “I hope you have a good night, Mr. Anderson.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said distractedly. “Do you know what happened to the young man I was dining with? Did he go to the restroom?”

“No, he rushed out in a hurry a couple of minutes ago,” she frowned.

“Okay,” Blaine nodded, hurrying back out.

Kurt had gone off by himself in the middle of a storm and Blaine had no idea why. Was there an emergency? But wouldn’t he have waited for Blaine to come back with the car so that he could have a ride? So, maybe he’d done it because of Blaine. But their time had been going so well--or at least, that’s what Blaine had thought--so what would cause Kurt to suddenly run?

Blaine got back into his car and drove with the window cracked open, hoping to hear or smell anything, but the storm was interfering, throwing scent and sound everywhere. 

He was speeding through the streets towards the bus station--where Kurt would presumedly head--when he smelled it. Blood.

Fresh blood. 

Also gardenia.

The throbbing returned to his head in full force as he became hyperaware of all his senses and sped towards the scent, fangs already shooting out involuntarily. 

Sounds followed quickly after--a soft whimpering noise that he immediately recognized as Kurt, and then a group of people laughing that sounded all-too-familiar. 

There was a sick crack.

Then Blaine had a visual. 

The field hockey team was surrounding Kurt in the middle of the sidewalk, each taking a turn in kicking or striking him with one of field hockey sticks.

His car screeched down the street as the boys stopped and then Scott Harrington knelt in front of Kurt as he coughed up blood and grabbed him by the hair.

The throbbing silenced suddenly and Blaine was lost.

The car screeched to a halt as he threw the car door open, engine still running. 

The boy-- _Scott_ , his mind uselessly supplied--was punching his Kurt roughly across the face. 

Blaine strode forward, faster than a human could see, teeth bared as he ensured that the boy would never hit anyone ever again, ripping both of his hands clean off before throwing him into the side of a building. 

He then turned to the nearest teammate in vicious glee as he snapped his neck and tore him in half at the torso, letting organs and ripped flesh spill onto the clean white snow. 

Then the next one, who hand blood on his stick from where he’d hit Kurt. Blaine took particular pleasure in grabbing both of his legs and ripping him in half vertically, from groin to skull. 

One attempted to run but Blaine just reached forward and ripped his spine out of his back roughly, snickering at the attempt. 

Another started screaming and Blaine reached over and tore out his vocal chords, dropping both that and the spine from his hands into the snow, liking how the red bloomed out over the pretty white like a poppy. 

He tore the limbs off of the next one.

He broke a field hockey stick off into another’s skull before ripping his torso.

Then there was Scott. Terrified handless Scott who’d had to watch his teammates get torn to pieces. He grabbed Scott roughly and burrowed his fangs into his neck, rejoicing at the hot rush of blood over his tongue because honestly, it had been far too long. 

Scott tried screaming, but Blaine covered his mouth briefly before pulling back to whisper into his ear. “Scott...don’t touch what’s mine.” 

Then he burrowed his teeth further, purposefully gnawing open his neck as Scott convulsed in his clutches, gurgling in a hilarious chocked-off manner. 

As the beat of Scott’s heart grew fainter and fainter, Blaine became aware of two other noises--that of a heart racing and of hyperventilating breath. 

Scott faded at last and Blaine lifted his head from the gaping neck to see Kurt sitting in the bloody snow, surrounded by torn limbs and staring at him with wide eyes, breaths coming out far to quickly as he emanated fear. 

Blaine faintly remembered earlier that night when he’d been so adamant about not telling Kurt about his true nature. He did his best not to giggle because honestly, it was far too late for that now. 

He smiled sweetly at Kurt, showing off his fangs. “Oops.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

***

Blaine stood, dropping Scott’s useless corpse to the ground.

Kurt scuttled backwards, breath still coming up short and covered in blood. He started crying as his hands shot away from the lukewarm blood/snow slush, looking around himself in disbelief. 

“Kurt,” Blaine said, the word coming out like a purr as he walked forward. Kurt shifting in the snow, down off of the curb gave him pause as the sharp scent of his blood filled the air. 

Kurt was injured. 

Badly.

Blaine blinked, his fangs sliding back into his gums. He had to get him to a hospital--no. He inhaled deeply again. No, it’d be far too late, Kurt would--

Kurt had frozen in the snow, just off the curb and in the street, his breathing ragged as blood tricked out against his stomach under his clothes, and the deep gash on his forehead throbbing and sickly red-black. 

And suddenly Blaine wanted to tear the field hockey players apart all over again.

Which caused his fangs to slide back out in anger.

Kurt let out a loud yelp and Blaine’s hand shot up to catch the fistful of ice that Kurt had thrown at him, his fingers closing around it and shattering it into powdery ice crystals. He looked back at Kurt in bewilderment, but Kurt was already climbing into his car and taking off, the driver’s door still open. 

Blaine took off after him, but the door slammed shut and Kurt _gunned_ it, peeling down the street. 

Jaw clenching, Blaine shoved his hair back from his face, looking back at the dead bodies. He should probably dispose of them in the dumpster. 

Kurt could have his head start. He’d catch up soon enough. 

***

They were one mile out from Weston Manor when Blaine realized that Kurt could _seriously_ gun it. Even running in his tire tracks, Kurt still reached the gates of the house before Blaine and locked them shut before skidding down the driveway to the house. 

Blaine thanked everything everywhere that invitations didn’t have to be given at the gate as he grabbed it roughly, hands burning oddly but he ignored it in favor of ripping the metal off its hinges and snapping the lock in half. 

The noise caught Kurt’s attention as he was stumbling out of his car and he looked back at Blaine, lightning lighting up their surroundings so Blaine could see the look of terror on his face with perfect clarity.

Blaine started forward.

Kurt turned and ran.

Blaine jumped. He just had to get there before--

Kurt slammed the door shut behind him.

Blaine slammed into the door, feeling the familiar tightening in his chest that wouldn’t let him go any further. Enraged, he pounded against the door, feeling it crack. But he knew it’d be of no use breaking it. He still wouldn’t be able to walk across the threshold. 

He could hear Kurt just on the other side, heart hammering like a jackrabbit. 

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel!” Blaine yelled, pounding on the door. “Open this door this instant!” 

He heard Kurt starting to cry on the other side, and a frantic muttered “Please go away, please go away, please go away--”

“I’m not going away!” Blaine snapped, nails digging into the wood in frustration. “Now open this door and invite me inside!” 

“Go away go away go away go away...”

Blaine took a deep breath, gritting his teeth. _Stop scaring him, Blaine. You’re not going to scare him into opening the door, just get him to open it so you can help him_. “Kurt, you have to invite me inside!” he tried again desperately, hands running all over the wood. If he didn’t get to Kurt in time--if this _stupid_ invitation rule was what kept him from saving him then...

He could hear scrambling from the other side of the door, and the sound of Kurt’s blood sloshing and dripping and he resumed his pounding, calling after Kurt even though he could hear him going up the stairs. 

Giving the door a final resounding hit, he backed away from it, mood turning sour. If Kurt wasn’t going to invite him in, then he’d drag him kicking and screaming if he had to out of the one room he could actually access in the house. 

Racing around the side, he jumped up until he was hanging off of the roof, looking in. 

Kurt was sitting on his bed, clutching a pillow and crying into it. He seemed completely unaware that he was bleeding profusely into said pillow and his ankle was swollen and crooked slightly and his head wound had gotten darker and stickier. 

Not to mention his heart speeding up, trying to pump blood to all the areas on his body that needed more. But he didn’t have enough because there was internal bleeding. Lots of it. 

Kurt was going to die if he did nothing. 

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the room. Kurt looked up and saw Blaine, jumping off his bed in alarm, hand flying to cover his mouth.

Blaine managed to refrain from just smashing the glass and climbing in for at least some show of civility. “Kurt,” he said through gritted teeth, knowing that he’d be heard. “Open. This. Window.”

Kurt shook his head, backing away. Blaine glanced at the door, noting that it was locked, which was good. It would take Kurt a second longer to open. 

But there’s no way he was going to let him get that close to the door.

If he went through the door, then Blaine wouldn’t be able to reach him.

One last try. 

“Kurt, you’re injured,” Blaine said as evenly as he could manage. “You need to tend to them, now open the window.”

Kurt sniffed, tears still coming down his face as he took another step back.

Last strike. Blaine sent him an irritated glare before shoving the window up, causing it to rattle in its frame, before sliding into the room, dripping snow slush and blood everywhere as he stood in front of Kurt in the blink of an eye. 

“What--” Kurt gasped, heart skyrocketing as he jumped at the sudden proximity. “You said I had to invite--”

“Oh you invited me into this room years ago,” Blaine glared before hauling Kurt up carefully and throwing him over his shoulder before jumping out the window. He ignored the scream in his ear as he ran over to the car and buckled Kurt into place before jumping over the vehicle to his own door and taking off down the driveway and through the ruined gate. 

Kurt was breathing heavily and refusing to look over at him. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.

Blaine clenched his jaw as he snatched Kurt back roughly by his collar and slammed the door shut, locking it. 

Kurt started sobbing. “Please let me go, Blaine. Just please, I haven’t done anything wrong, please--”

“You wanted answers, you’re going to get answers,” Blaine responded curtly as Kurt curled up into a ball in his seat. 

Seconds later their were pulling through his own gate and he parked crookedly in front of the house before pulling Kurt out of his door and hauling him over his shoulder again as he went inside. It was still dark, but that didn’t make much of a difference as he jumped up to the top floor, swinging over the balcony and racing down the hall to his room, where he promptly deposited Kurt on the bed, counting on the speed and darkness to keep him disoriented enough to light all the candles. 

As visibility grew, Kurt shook his head, looking around the room wildly and it was stupid considering the circumstances, but Blaine suddenly felt a strong urge to ask Kurt what he thought of it and if he liked it and--

Okay no, that was probably a bad idea at this point. 

So instead he walked over to stand directly in front of Kurt, who was sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

Kurt looked up at him, eyes widening as he moved to scramble back across the bed, but Blaine reached forward with a sigh, holding him still by the scruff of his neck. 

“Calm down,” Blaine said gently, his fangs sliding out in anticipation as he pushed Kurt down onto the bed, assessing where to start first. Probably the internal stuff. “And hold still, or else this is really going to hurt.”

“Please don’t!” Kurt shoved at his shoulders, but Blaine ignored it in favor of leaning down and evenly slicing the skin of Kurt’s neck, sinking his fangs in. 

His jaw clenched as the rich hot blood poured over his tongue and his lips quirked slightly at the taste and yes giving Kurt lobster and chocolate earlier was an excellent call and--

Blaine sighed, pulling his teeth out, and doing his best to ignore Kurt’s choked off cries, as he bit into his own wrist with a wince, sucking up as much blood as he could into his mouth. Then he leaned over, pressing his lips back to Kurt’s neck and shoving the blood in with the force of his lips. 

Kurt let out a low hiss before going quiet, his body relaxing against the comforter. 

“There we go,” Blaine muttered gently as he listened to Kurt’s heart pumping his own blood towards the needed areas. Kurt’s eyelids fluttered shut and his expression smoothed over as his breathing evened out gently. 

Blaine smiled softly before leaning over and gently licking at the wound on Kurt’s forehead. He lazed his tong back and forth over it softly until the skin started stitching itself back together. Gently, he smoothed over it with a finger to make sure there’d be no blemish before moving down to Kurt’s jaw and licking against the scraped raw skin.

It was all completely methodical and...well, caring. He’d be lying to himself if he said otherwise. He licked the blood off of Kurt’s swollen nose before moving down and tearing open his shirt to clear up his clavicles. His mood grew dark again when he saw the pool of blood on Kurt’s abdomen from the rib and a half sticking out of his chest and he leaned down to press it back in with his finger, counting on his blood to act as an anesthetic as he sealed it back in with a lick.

He moved on to the other scrapes and breaks and sprains of Kurt’s body, the only lasting casualty his torn clothes. 

Kurt grew more lethargic throughout the whole process as his body healed at an excessively high rate, because Blaine wasn’t taking any chances. 

Kurt shifted in discomfort, craning his neck and Blaine lurched forward, licking across the wound there in a long broad stripe to complete the healing. “There,” he muttered, standing up straight to survey Kurt, ensuring that he’d gotten everywhere. “You’re done.”

He walked over to his dresser, changing at full speed into loose pajama pants, sighing at the state of his lobster cardigan. He really did like that cardigan. Using the ruined dress shirt to wipe the snow out of his hair and blood off his mouth, he pulled out an extra pair of pajamas, tossing them over to Kurt. “Here. Come downstairs after you change.”

As soon as Blaine shut the door behind him, he felt it. All the cells in his body acclimating themselves another’s.

Right. There was that side effect to drinking a live human’s blood directly from them.

After years of blood banks and drinking to kill, he’d almost forgot about that little side effect. 

Blaine sighed, jumping over the railing, down to the bottom floor as he headed over to the salon, dragging an armchair over from the window to the fireplace for Kurt. He could feel the fear and adrenaline mingling in Kurt’s blood and he felt his first pang of guilt. He probably shouldn’t have scared him that much. 

Then again, he was thrown the situation of Kurt getting beaten up by a gang of jocks out of nowhere, so he had done what was the most efficient way of extricating Kurt and then making sure that he was returned to proper health.

It wasn’t his fault that humans reacted over everything. 

Not to mention that--

_ADRENALINE_.

Blaine’s eyes widened and it was like a hook suddenly pulling him and then he was running, faster than usual into the foyer, looking up wildly in panic, followed by extreme irritation as he opened his arms and waited for Kurt to land neatly in them. 

Kurt’s eyes were clenched shut, but they popped open in surprise at his landing, and then they started filling with dread.

Blaine honestly couldn’t care less what Kurt thought of him at that moment. There was a far more important point to make. "You really need to stop trying to take your life," he said as they moved into the salon and he dropped Kurt in the armchair. "That trick with the knife you pulled earlier this week wasn't funny.” He reached up and snatched a bottle of cognac off the mantlepiece and poured Kurt a tumbler. “Drink."

Kurt ignored the beverage. "That wasn't the intention," he said faintly as Blaine sat down in his own chair across from him. "And...how did you find out about that?"

"Your bathroom door was open when I went to put the gardenia on your bed,” Blaine sighed. “There was blood on the knife but it doesn't take a genius to put together a knife and a full bathtub."

"You put the gardenia in my room?" Kurt blinked owlishly.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I thought that'd be obvious by now."

Kurt licked his lips as they turned down into a frown. "Why?"

"Because you said you'd been having bad dreams," Blaine said, assuming that that’d been obvious.

Kurt flushed suddenly and snatched up the tumbler, taking a long gulp before coughing and spluttering into the glass.

"Try sips. The intent is to warm you up and calm your nerves, not get you hammered." Blaine said dryly, wondering faintly why _embarrassment_ of all things was coursing through Kurt’s blood. On a separate note, he appreciated the contrast of the flushed skin next to his dark blue pajamas.

"So," Kurt coughed discreetly, slowly meeting Blaine’s eyes. "So...you...you're a...a..."

"A vampire," Blaine cut to the chase. 

"Yeah," Kurt said quietly, curling up slightly in his chair.

"Yes," Blaine said in a bored fashion, rattling through the list. "I don't age, I drink blood from the living, can't go out in extreme sunlight, no footprints or reflections, the whole deal."

 Kurt nodded, taking another sip of cognac as his ears turned a violent shade of red. "And you...sent...me...dreams?"

Blaine blinked before his lips curled up in a smile in understanding. So _that’s_ what Kurt had been wondering about. "I merely replaced myself in your dreams. What your subconscious decided to do with me...” He trailed off, his lips curling further into a smirk. “That was all on you, Kurt." 

Kurt's eyes widened as he took another long sip, trying to hide his wince. Maybe cognac hadn’t been the best alcohol to start him off on. "You uh...you said that you replaced yourself? So...do you know who that woman was? With the long dark hair?"

Blaine's smile turned grim as he turned to look at the fire. "Marlene Rose. Or Marley, as she liked to be called."

"Marley," Kurt mumbled. "Does...does this have to do with my great grandmother?"

Blaine looked back at him in surprise. "Yes. How did you know that?"

"I saw a picture," Kurt said, fiddling with the glass. "Of my great-grandmother and your great--wait a minute..." he whispered. "Was that you? Are you Blaine V?"

Blaine nodded with a sigh. Here they went. Might as well get it over with. "Yes, that was me."

"You were engaged to my great-grandmother."

"Yes."

"So..." Kurt bit his lip. "So Marley's a vampire too, right?"

"Yes."

Kurt licked his lips. "So she turned you? And that's why everyone thought you two ran off together?"

Blaine stared at Kurt incredulously. Marley change him? What was he talking about? He tried not to laugh before it came rupturing out. "Wait, is that what you think?"

Kurt blinked in confusion. "That...isn't what happened?"

"No no no, Kurt," Blaine chuckled. He’d thought that Kurt had piece together most of the story, but he was still in the dark. "1914 is what happened. Here--" He jumped up and went over to the eight portraits of himself on the far wall, opening the curtains for the most recent one, hoping to drive the point home. "This is Duke Blaine Anderson VIII.” He moved to the next one with a sigh. “And VII. VI. V. IV. III. II. I." 

He went back to his chair, unseen by Kurt who was staring at the paintings with the same subject in shock. "Kurt, I'd been a vampire for a very long time before I met your great-grandmother."

Kurt’s brows furrowed as he looked back at Blaine. "I'm confused."

"Then let's start at the beginning," Blaine suggested, easing back into his chair. They were back on track with where he’d wanted the evening to go. Explaining his history to Kurt. Well...the initial plan had a lot less injury and homicide and property damage in it. 

"I was turned in 1783 by a vampire named Wesley Montgomery. Well...” he amended with a sigh. “I think that was his name.” Wes had never actually told him either way. “I joined his coven. It was just me, him, Mike, and Tina. Pretty simple. We didn't draw attention to ourselves or kill needlessly or anything stupid like that.

"We moved to England for a while and thrived there in secret, gaining titles and land and prestige even though no one really knew who we were. Victorian society was emerging and..." He looked off into the fireplace, the memories catching up with him. "That's when we met Marlene Rose.”

Marley had seemed so innocent back then, just a harmless barmaid that Wes had saved one night from drunken advances of a pompous son of a lord. 

"She was a regular girl. Lovely voice. Wes took an interest in her originally and started using her for feeding. She desperately wanted to become one of us, but Wes didn't want to turn her because...he'd grown attached to her...well, how alive she was and he didn't want to see her light go out or something or other. I'm not entirely sure.”

Though he sort of thought that he knew what Wes had been talking about now. His cells were vibrating with Kurt’s vibrant _life_ that was coursing through him, and if this feeling ever stopped, if Kurt ever--

Honestly, he didn’t even want to think about it.

"Marley left and Wes was devastated,” Blaine plowed on, refusing to look at Kurt. “He even stopped feeding for a while before we helped him get back on his feet. A decade later Marley showed up again but she'd been turned. And she...killed Tina."

"Oh my god," Kurt whispered.

"We didn't even see it coming," Blaine murmured, eyes sliding back to Kurt. He couldn’t look at the fire anymore. Because Tina had burned. "Wes had just been so overjoyed to see her again and we'd left the two alone when we went out one night and we came back and...Mike was beside himself because they'd been together for nearly two hundred years. We ended up breaking apart after that. I went to the Americas and gained a friend in a young Charlotte Waldorf. She was only fourteen at the time and I was posing as seventeen. She grew up and was engaged to a man she loathed so I stepped in and offered my hand just to help her out of the situation.”

Well...okay, that might not have been _precisely_ how it went down...

_There was a heavy knock at the door._

_Blaine opened it with a frown, his eyebrows shooting up when he saw Charlotte standing on his doorstep. “Charlotte, what--”_

_“Marry me,” she said simply, brushing past him._

_Blaine stared after her. “Would you like a drink?”_

_“No, I’d like your hand in marriage,” she said simply. “I’m not going to marry Berry and I need time to fall in love. But mostly, I need a husband whom I can have an...agreement with.”_

_“Agreement,” Blaine echoed, eyebrows shooting up._

_Charlotte crossed her arms. “I know what you are, Blaine.”_

_“Is that so?” Blaine said easily, leaning against his wall._

_“Yes,” Charlotte nodded. “And quiet frankly I don’t care, because here and now I need someone I can marry and then divorce as soon as I’ve found a suitable partner for myself. And you need a wife because people will start raising their eyebrows at the fact that you don’t have one.”_

_“It seems that you’ve thought this all out,” Blaine smiled._

_“Yes,” Charlotte nodded curtly. “And then we can run away to Europe together where I can find love and you can be yourself with some other beautiful European boy or whatever and we can live happily ever after, alright?”_

_Blaine coughed slightly, realizing that it was the secret that he didn’t quite care about that Charlotte had guessed, rather than his...condition. “Well, I’d say that we have an arrangement.”_

_Why not? If he was going to go to Europe, he might as well bring his best friend along as well._

_“Very good,” Charlotte nodded, shaking his hand firmly. “Now go buy me a spectacular ring.”_

"And then Marley showed up again,” Blaine sighed. “She...became obsessed with destroying me since I was Wes' creation and she went after Charlotte. I would've just grabbed her and gotten off the cape but..." He trailed off, jaw clenching.

"But?" Kurt prodded gently after a pause.

"1914," Blaine said grimly. "The canal was built. Cape Cod stopped being a peninsula officially and became a technical island."

Kurt stared. "So...?"

"So..." Blaine sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Vampires can't cross running water. And there wasn't a bridge yet, just a ferry, so Marley and I were both stuck." 

"What did you do?" Kurt leaned forward.

"Built a trap. And I fell for one as well. The old well on my property. I made sure it was stable before pouring dead man's blood all along the walls and into the water. No one used the well, so it was fine. And vampires can't drink dead man's blood or they'd die. I made it a hawthorne lid and gave it iron latches. We can't cross iron and hawthorne makes us sick to the touch,” Blaine explained.

"Really?" Kurt seemed surprised, a frown tugging down his lips.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"We can only be killed with hawthorne stakes."

"What about garlic?" Kurt asked eagerly.

Blaine rolled his eyes, holding back a snort. "No, garlic's fine."

"Oh," Kurt settled back into his chair, disappointed. He took another sip of cognac. "So you caught her?"

"Threw her down the well," Blaine nodded. "And latched it shut. It was foolproof. She couldn't get out. But..." He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I fell for another trick. Charlotte's suitor...knew what I was. He was from an old family of vampire hunters and...and I was stupid. I smelled Charlotte's scent. Fresh blood. And I ran towards it into the lighthouse. It was just a handkerchief, drenched in her blood. Then the lighthouse door slammed shut. And locked from the outside."

Kurt stared. "Couldn't you just break your way out?"

Blaine smiled grimly. "Iron. The entire outside was made of iron. I couldn't cross it. Even the diamond strips over the window was made of iron. And the entire interior was made of hawthorne wood."

Kurt licked his lips, already guessing how this ended in the back of his mind, but still needing to confirm it. "Blaine...how long were you in there?"

Blaine stared at him dead-on with a smile that held no amusement. "Until a little eight-year-old boy opened the door and let me out."

Kurt’s eyes widened in horror. "But that was--"

"Nearly ninety years," Blaine answered. "Hell of a time to go without blood, let me tell you."

"And Marley?"

"Still down there in the well. First thing I did was make sure she was secure. She was, mostly, except someone had pushed a small stone inside so she stared at me for a good minute while I found another stone to jam in."

"That was me," Kurt murmured, glancing down in his lap.

"I know," Blaine said grimly. "I didn't at first, but when you started having nightmares that first night..."

"How did you...you were in my room, weren't you?” Kurt said, piecing everything together. “When I woke up and thought I saw someone in my room?"

"Yes," Blaine nodded, holding back an embarrassed wince.

"How did you get in? You said that I invited you..."

"When you were eight. I--" he broke off and looked to the side, shame filling him. "I'm not proud of it, but I almost...I mean, I hadn't drank in nearly a century and you were right there..."

"You--"

"No,” he shook his head. He didn’t go that far. “I mean, almost, but I ran off and found a bear." His nose wrinkled. "It was disgusting. But it got me clear-headed enough to go check on Marley, then I went back and found you. You were so little and you looked so much like Charlotte had.” Insanely like Charlotte had. “I found your house and woke you long enough to persuade you to invite me into your room before tucking you in."

Kurt nodded slowly as silence filled the room for a time. "Why...why did Marley start showing up in my dreams?"

"Because you're back here and close to her," Blaine said, leaning forward. "You were the first face she saw in nearly ninety years and you look remarkably like Charlotte. This is her favorite method. Stalk you in your dreams until you either die of fright or you go to the well seeking answers, which you did until I stopped you."

"But I saw her everywhere," Kurt murmured. "In the woods, in the bath with me..."

"The nightmares caused you to stop sleeping, didn't they? You were so sleep deprived that you were half asleep most of the time and she just kept invading your subconscious, feeding off your fear. That's why I intervened,” Blaine explained, trying to make him understand.

Kurt nodded softly, licking his lips. "So she's just...waiting down there to kill me? Or you?" 

Blaine nodded. "Which is why we have to keep you alive."

Which, consequently, was also why he had to keep Kurt _here_.

Kurt sagged in his chair, looking extremely overwhelmed. "Why...why did you kill the whole field hockey team?

For a split second--too fast for Kurt to see--Blaine just stared at him incredulously, because did he honestly still not _get it_? And then he was right in front of Kurt, hands braced on the armrests of the chair as he leaned in close. He knew his eyes had probably changed colors, but he couldn’t exactly find it within himself to care. "Because they harmed you," Blaine murmured quietly, putting finality into every syllable. "And trust me, their deaths were much faster than they deserved, but I had to tend to your wounds."

Kurt’s heart jumped and leapt as he shuddered slightly, before nodding.

"Come," Blaine said, straightening up. "Let's get you to bed."

He didn’t throw Kurt over his shoulder for once, instead walking with him up each flight of stairs.

Kurt was silent the entire time.

They made it back to Blaine’s room, where Blaine extinguished each candle slow enough for Kurt to see as he was climbing in bed. 

“Sweet dreams, Kurt,” Blaine murmured as he left the room, closing the door silently. Then he sagged against it.

What on earth was he supposed to do now?


End file.
